It's she who is afraid.

She'll get in; no, she won't get in." He had now spread himself out on the back seat, his two arms on the sides of the boat, and was showing off with fanfaronade.

The chuckles of this poor man were like cuts from a whip to Therese, lashing and urging her on.

She abruptly sprang into the boat, remaining in the bows.
Laurent grasped the skulls.

The skiff left the bank, advancing slowly towards the isles.
Twilight came.